Falling Slowly
by Anna Ti'ana
Summary: Allen/Kanda. Taking things slowly, M for Allen's mind. "He traces Kanda’s lips with his, slowly, gently, barely touching; skin on skin, no saliva, no wet heat, no urge to devour, to part lips and force tongues to touch; just little fleeting touches."


**Title :** Falling Slowly  
**Rating : **R  
**Characters :** Allen-Kanda  
**Summary : **Kanda-Allen. Taking things slow. Rated R for Allen's Mind (mind is so awesome it is Mind!)  
**Spoilers/Warnings :** No spoilers.  
**Disclaimer : **DGM be Hoshino's baby, I write fic for no sane reason.  
**A/N :** So... I have internet wiring woes. I had horrible urge to read Allen-Kanda shiny fic with no plot and a sense of pretty slowness. The net went. I wrote fic and am posting it before I chicken out.

Title taken from the beautiful song 'Falling Slowly' by Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova. (Wut, if I picked my own crazy titles it would be 'Slow, Mad, Sex and Mind' and then _no one_ would read ;_;)

* * *

He traces Kanda's lips with his, slowly, gently, barely touching; skin on skin, no saliva, no wet heat, no urge to devour, to part lips and force tongues to touch; just little fleeting touches.

It takes all the effort in the world not to laugh when Kanda growls in annoyance.

Instead he lets out a little breath, lets it tease against their lips and backs away.

Allen's a little surprised Kanda hasn't run Mugen through him with all his usual murderous glory.  
But then again, this is special, it's special enough for Kanda to know without being made to realize.

Special, he thinks, and decides to keep it that way.

Logic dictates they, for a lack of a more apt term, fuck.

They've fought with each other, fought together, fought for their lives, for their sanity, for little gasping breaths of peace. Allen Walker will trust Yu Kanda with his life. Kanda might not consciously want to, but will anyway. They've been through countless battles, hell and back. So much utter crap in their lives and it's odd that flesh is the last barrier to conquer.

Adrenaline perpetually swimming through their veins, it should have happened ages ago; all this toying around, this silly childishness, it's not like either of them are being sensible about this.

Allen wants, with desperation bordering on insanity, to map Kanda's skin with his fingers. He wants to discover the different little noises the sulky exorcist will make. The sound when Allen presses a tongue to his nipple, lets it stay there, a patch of wet on hot skin and moans around it. Or when he runs his fingers through long hair and grips, forcefully and _tugs_, has something solid to yank Kanda back to him, an action that could make him growl, keep him feral and prissy and beautiful, all things _Kanda_.

The sound he will make when Allen bites into his shoulder and licks his neck, because they're both flawless and Allen wants to try to mark with teeth, tongue, lips and heart what can not be claimed but only bargained with. It's too late for them to claim, they're both doomed, trading one heart for the other is all they can do.

He wants to know the exact timbre of Kanda's voice when he sits in all his scarred nakedness on an equally naked Kanda and lets skin meet skin; chest to chest, arousal to arousal.

And then his mind starts spiraling out of control, he starts to picture Kanda, hair obscuring everything, lips hovering over his erection, one long moist breath over his aroused wet cock and then he does shiver, _does_ lose complete control, thinks of Kanda and spread legs, being pushed into, thrusting into, loud moans, wet gasps, blinding heat and he moves his hips, pumps himself into a brain numbing orgasm.

Afterwards he lies messy and alone and curses.  
Allen's pillow has borne the frustrated groans of many nights. He wants, all the poetic lamenting and beautiful words in the world is reduced to a single world croaked breathily and with aching feeling by a lone teenager, _want_.

And if Kanda's little growls and fierce grips are any indication, he wants the same, perhaps in less flowery detail and more along the lines of just sex.

Allen wants the sex too, will take the plain old sex happily.

It's his mind that's started wanting and thinking over days of suppression. Satisfying the body is easier and is something Allen has done and can do with minimal problem. It's the mind that spins and distorts and reduces everything around him, magnifying the need till it's not just between his legs but spreading its dark tendrils through his chest and gripping his heart.

Mind's a bloody pain, he thinks.

So he pulls back all the way and tries not to abandon the last vestiges of control he has just because Kanda looks annoyed, just because Kanda looks annoyed at not having more, not having more of him; _Yu Kanda wants him_.

There is no such thing as dignified hip swinging or jigging in glee, so he bites down on a smile and starts reading a book. He doesn't care what it is and what idiocy it preaches through lengthy pages and wordy dialogues as long as it manages to stay wedged firmly in between them for now.

Lavi's asked him why he's being silly, why they're being silly. Asking Kanda the same thing seems not to have struck Bookman Jr, a wise one he is. It bewilders Allen how _Lavi_ can't understand when _Kanda_ can. Not that his current object of frustration and every other emotion is stupid, it is that the redhead is supposed to be smarter.

Lenalee doesn't understand either, or pretends not to so that it can be kept vague and weird. She does however helpfully point out that they're not that different, they're similar so what makes sense to them doesn't always make sense to the world.  
She means it in a comforting way, in a cocooning way; all it does is make Allen feel like he and Kanda have got some spectacularly weird stamp of stupidity on their foreheads that no one else can understand.

Being silly, dragging this out, denying and stretching the insanity to impossible levels, _why_ questioningly murmurs Logic now and then.

'_You both are going to snap one day and do it in the cafeteria aren't you?'_

Lavi doesn't realize how that one question adds to his daily dilemma and he starts thinking of Kanda. Sex. Kitchen. Oil. Pots. Pans. Then knives come and ruin it. That or people watching. Then he thinks of Kanda and Sex (big ole important Sex) in different places. The library, his fervent imagination moans, just once between quiet books and wooden panels, to be in easy view and yet hidden, to lose control in suppressed air.

The mind starts to want and Allen forcefully derails it. They're not trying to solve anything cosmic with this.

On the contrary they're just wasting time.

Allen doesn't see how it isn't obvious; when they're wasting so much time it only shows _they have time to waste_.

The world isn't coming to an end, Kanda's cells aren't being their usual draining regenerative selves and the dead madman in Allen's head is dead. Who knew that Allen's mind is as strong as his heart? It's capable of murdering those who're not supposed to be there, he owes his mind a lot so he can't quite hate it yet for tormenting him with beautiful, naked Kanda.

It's not just about sex, it is about them and the lives they've led and who they are, the final tiny barrier left between them. Spending time on something so monumental doesn't seem all that bad.

They now have time to waste.

It is stupid because they shouldn't squander something they've never had, but they're like greedy children in a chocolate store with shiny new gold coins. Taking it slow, being old before the time. Whatever people want to call it; stupid, senseless, _it doesn't matter_.

It is not normal, they have never been normal.

It is them.

_Special._

So he closes the book and reaches to kiss Kanda again.  
This time, he decides, he'll use his tongue.

* * *

_Concrit makes me happy. Comments are love ^^_


End file.
